


The Hardest Step

by LadyJaye



Series: Selfish Love [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ::shrug::, Break Up, IronHusbands Week 2019, Ironhusbands, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark(past), James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Multi, New Beginnings, Polyamory gone wrong, Post-Break Up, RhodeyTonyEndgame, This came out saltier than I wanted/intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 13:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaye/pseuds/LadyJaye
Summary: It was probably why neither of them saw it coming.





	The Hardest Step

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Rhodey Tony Week! This is Day 1 "Beginnings and Endings" 
> 
> So a lot of people wanted to see a certain diner scene and what started as like 1k of fluff with a side of angst turned into well... you'll see. I hope it doesn't disappoint! I did try and likely failed at making this as neutral as possible but breakups are generally messy so here we go. 
> 
> Not exactly Stucky friendly but not bashing either. You've been appropriately warned. 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful  Aprilmallick  for being an awesome beta!

It started out on a Sunday. Tony and Steve were enjoying a nice morning, not in bed for once, lounging around and relaxing. Steve with his legs stretched in front of him on their chaise while Tony stretched out on the couch with his head in Steve’s lap. He doesn’t remember what movie they were watching but what he does remember is the scritch scratch of methodical circles Steve’s nails made against his scalp nearly lulling him to sleep. Those days they were always doing something, very active in their community with volunteer work. Steve taught art at PS308 15 minutes away. So when they had the down time to just kick back they took to it without question. They had a "no phones" rule for Sunday mornings. Barring an emergency both men would turn off their phones or schedule them to activate the "do not disturb" mode until noon, giving them more than enough time to just be with each other. 

It was probably why neither of them saw it coming. 

Around mid-morning there was a knock on the door and a James Buchanan Barnes on their doorstep. Looking back Tony realized he never really stood a chance. That was a year ago. 

A year ago, Tony and Barnes nearly got into a fist fight in the living room of his apartment when Steve traipsed down stairs to pick up pizza. It started with Tony asking why Barnes picked now to come back, a subtle reminder that just because he had his shit together now didn't mean Steve was going to run back to him, and ended with Barnes pointing out that if he'd never left, Tony wouldn't have stood a chance in the first place. After all, why would Steve look twice at Tony if he had the love of his life with him? 

It was Steve walking in on them trying to verbally tear the flesh off each other's backs in a vicious shouting match five minutes later that ended it. And that was how he officially met Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend and ex-fiance. Infamous within their little group of friends as the man who dumped Steve one day out of the blue and took off to parts unknown, leaving him a heartbroken mess. He was persona non-grata and yet the yard stick they all measured Tony against. Yes, he was still bitter. 

That evening Tony watched his boyfriend catch up with his ex with a blinding smile on his face, hanging off the words of Bucky's misadventures, and had never in his life felt more invisible. Having grown up with Howard Stark, that was quite an achievement. If he'd known that morning was the last time he'd feel normal he'd have held on a little longer. Maybe taken that day trip they decided against in order to stay home and cuddle. Maybe Bucky would have been waiting for them when they got back but Tony sure as hell would have savored every minute of that day. 

\-----

Tony blinked awake several hours later to ungodly amounts of sunlight. Seriously? Get some damn curtains, Rhodey! It appeared the sleeping arrangements were strategic as Rhodey had his back to the horrifying amount of sunshine spilling in through the window on his side of the room. Tony had been too tired to care. Just like he’d been too tired to notice just how close they’d gotten in their sleep. He woke to his nose and forehead pressed against Rhodey’s chest, the other man's arm draped across his side, and was loathe to admit that he felt better rested in the short amount of time, he was assuming, he’d spent in Rhodey’s bed than he had in his own for quite some time. 

He sort of wished he hadn’t known that. He wished for a lot of things. If he didn’t know then he wouldn’t have anything to compare it with. Now that he did the results were staggering. 

He hadn’t slept well in months, really since Bucky moved into their home and into their bed. Fact. 

When Bucky and Steve made time for each other and not for him it stressed him the fuck out. Also, fact. 

He felt jumpy in his own home asking for said time, despite them negotiating rules, and felt like a complete bastard for horning in on their time together when he and Steve had 10 years and Steve and Bucky had only 6 months in as many years. Sad fact.

Some days he wished Steve would just sit him down and tell him he was the one leaving him. Sometimes he wished he had just done that himself on day one. Terrible, depressing truth. 

Tony inhaled sharply and wriggled back until he hit the edge of the bed and could sit upright. Fuck, he really was awful wasn’t he? At least that’s how they would see it. He could hear it now. All of the things they would say. The accusations. The reminder that he had agreed to this in the first place. 

At least he didn't have much of a hangover thanks to one overbearing best friend demanding he drink a glass of water the minute they stepped foot in the apartment. 

He rooted around the floor with his foot until he grasped his jeans with his toes and pulled them up to his lap. Yes, feet could be useful for things other than walking, Rhodey. He fished around his pockets, flipping his pants from side to side until he located his Rumi 6 phone, and sighed when he realized the device was dead. Luckily he'd spotted a charger in the kitchen on his way in and if Rhodey were still as tech savvy as Tony was himself he’d have the same model. 

“Fuck,” Tony groaned as he stood. Apparently today’s hangover was the slow and steady type, though not the worst he’d ever encountered. Easily handled with coffee, more water, and more tylenol than recommended. 

“Mmph?” 

“Go back to sleep buddy,” Tony soothed. “Just gonna charge my phone.” 

“Mmkay,” Rhodey mumbled into his pillow. “Kitchcounter.” 

“Yeah I know, Platypus,” Tony shuffled forward towards the kitchen. In the light of day, and mostly sober, he could admire the floor plan. Not as open as some of Tony’s other buildings but still rather sprawling for a Manhattan apartment. 

The massive kitchen was the best part and biggest reason Rhodey chose the place. Half of the apartments in the building had been designed around the kitchen at Tony’s request. Not for Rhodey, of course he didn’t even live in the city back then, that would be absurd, but to cater to transplants, chefs, and amateurs who thought they were chefs that would pay top dollar to not have to cook their meals in a cupboard.

He actually took a trip with his architect, Edwin Jarvis, out to a few suburbs to tour the same type of houses young professionals and families were flocking out of the city to sprawl out in. Then asked Jarvis to reimagine them. It was one of the last projects he oversaw as CEO and if he held back one specific apartment, as was his prerogative, to sell at fair market value then who was going to judge him? 

As it turned out, Rhodey did not have much to unpack, which made sense all things considered. It also meant Tony was blessedly free from injury while making his way past the five lonely cardboard boxes scattered about. Mostly kitchenware. Who the hell had an emulsifier but not a couch? James Rupert Rhodes, that’s who. The sun was just as bright in the kitchen and living room, thanks to the large windows lining half of the room, which made it both easy and painful to find the little black charger partially obscured by a large juicer. His phone lit up and trilled when it started charging and he let it be for the time being. 

Coffee first, life altering messages after. Avoidance or self care? He didn’t bother to make the distinction and instead busied himself with rooting around in the cabinets for coffee grinds. Unfortunately, it brought him right next to the microwave. He tried not to look. Even skirted around the machine with his head down to avoid looking at the time. 

If he looked at the clock display he’d know. And if he knew, he’d have to check his phone much sooner than he wanted and leave the realm of blessed ignorance where it was just another weekend of the boys doing their thing and Tony doing his thing and everything was fine. But because the universe hated him he finally located the container of grinds and of course the filters were right next to him, because for all his fancy kitchen gear Rhodey couldn’t let go of his simple pour over system, and that particular item just had to be in the cabinet directly next to the microwave. 

He dropped both the grinds and the box of filters on the counter top, reached for his phone, and turned it on. A cursory look at the time indicated that it was well past noon. Yeah, they were probably pissed. And yet it seemed the only time they noticed him lately was when he wasn’t there for them. There was something very selective about that. Something very...shitty that annoyed him and made him sad all over again. 

“Fuck,” Tony said again, more quietly in an attempt to not wake his friend. 

He was clearly too late for that though. Rhodey’s footsteps were light, despite his size, as he repeated Tony’s stumbling act with a bit more grace. Still dressed in his joggers and t-shirt he managed to look adorably rumpled whereas Tony was sure he looked like a rogue wildebeest when he rolled out of bed. They both waved to each other and Rhodey motioned him away from the coffee grinds while he pulled out a pot and filled it with water. 

That left Tony to actually look at his phone. He thought he was ready for them to rain all over his parade, he wasn’t prepared for a fucking flood. 30 texts in all between the two of them, 15 calls, and a few messages from Natasha, Sam, and Clint. There was one from Wanda that he refused to open. Just from the preview he could already tell it was nasty. That and it was sent at 7:45am.

They probably noticed he wasn’t there when they woke up for their run at 5 and hadn’t returned by the time they got back at around 7. That was around when all the text messages started. They ranged from worried ones from Steve, baffled and a bit angry from Bucky, critical from Natasha, one concerned from Sam, and that was nice he supposed, and finally annoyed from Clint. 

Then of course he just had to accidentally scroll to Wanda’s text message which read a blistering “If you’re going to have a temper tantrum this early in the morning do us all a favor and keep it to yourself. Some of us need beauty sleep.” 

“Your friends are dicks,” Rhodey’s voice was right next to him as the older man came to stand beside him. They were pressed together from their arms down to their thighs, Rhodey’s heat warming him through the fabric. The shiver that spread from the contact had the hairs on his forearm standing on edge. 

“Not really my friends,” Tony reminded him. Rhodey had met them all a few times over the years and really only connected with Sam, the both of them being Air Force and all. He’d never quite warmed up to Natasha and Clint. Wanda had an intense dislike of Tony, not that any one else acknowledged it, that Rhodey picked up on pretty immediately during a Friendsgiving one year and they’d never recovered. 

“I could always call Hope and Carol,” Rhodey suggested sunnily. 

“Yes, let’s call the two most likely to start a brawl in a diner. The heiress and the Major,” Tony snarked. “Oh God, it sounds like a dime novel from the 20’s!” 

“A dirty one, too,” Rhodey commented with a bit of a leer. Tony chuckled. 

“I always knew you were a dirty old man,” Tony said in mock horror, clutching imaginary pearls. Rhodey could be just as crass as Tony himself. He just had a special set of social skills Tony had never obtained, such as knowing when to quit. 

“Hey! Be glad I haven’t called Pepper, yet,” Rhodey threatened. “She’d love to make good on just one of her shovel talks and rain down hellfire on them.” 

That was a genuinely terrifying thought. Pepper would just leave behind scorched earth in her wake. Even with their military training they’d never see her coming either. 

“Steve was worried,” Tony said morosely. “At least that’s something.” 

Rhodey hummed and nudged him gently with his elbow. Tony glanced down and smiled at the offered cup of coffee. He wrapped his fingers around the heated surface and brought the mug to his nose just to smell it. 

Rhodey snorted. Tony retaliated by moaning obnoxiously while he sipped or rather downed half the cup without so much as a flinch. When he did look back at Rhodey the other man was staring back at him eyebrows raised, lips twitching with a badly concealed smile. Tony shrugged innocently then proceeded to drink the rest of his coffee. 

“How about breakfast?” Rhodey asked, moving over to the fridge and opening the double doors revealing fully stocked shelves. 

Tony groaned. 

“Only you would think of food at a time like this,” Tony complained. 

“What? We gotta eat. You especially.” 

“Oh, don’t start! We can’t all be buff military men!” 

“Aww so sweet of you to notice.” 

“I always notice you, Honeybear!” 

“You’re not getting out of breakfast,” Rhodey said unimpressed. 

“But coffee--” 

“--is not food,” Rhodey answered. A shrill ringing cut across their good mood and Tony instinctively looked at his phone despite the sound being much too loud to be his ringer. 

“It’s the front desk,” Rhodey said, looking at his own phone. He held up his phone and swiped at the screen. That was right, he remembered. One of their features here was a video concierge late nights and weekends that sent a video feed to your phone when someone buzzed downstairs.

It cut down on randos just coming in the building. You couldn’t just name drop and move on. The system would confirm you were home for one and the tennent could more accurately see who was there and deny or grant access remotely if they pleased. 

Tony gasped playfully looking over his shoulder to see who was there. “So help me God, Rhodey, if you actually have a delivery from Ted’s Beds--shit.” 

“Yeah, shit, is right,” Rhodey said with a grimace. There in all their pixelated glory were Steve and Bucky staring up at them. Steve was moving his lips, clearly unaware that there was no video, while Bucky stood stoically beside him looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Rhodey’s screen went blank and Tony spun around frantically scrolling through his text messages again. 

"Fuck!" 

He wasn't ready. 

He wasn't ready. 

_ Hewasn'tready! _

"You know I can tell them to leave, right?” Rhodey reminded him softly. Not to be funny or snarky but in an effort to keep him calm. "I know the owner and he has a top notch security system in all of his buildings, even the affordable housing ones." 

Rhodey clicked the screen off, leaving it dark, but the damage was done. It was all happening too fast. Speeding along suddenly at the speed of light. How long would it take for them to get up to the apartment? One short elevator ride and a few minutes of conversation and 10 years would be gone, down the drain, just like that. 

The shrill ringing started again. 

He could just let security handle things and spare himself but he didn't see how it was any better. They'd be even more livid then and that was if Steve actually backed down for once in his life and didn't cause a scene in Tony's best case scenario. It was a mess and there really was no avoiding it. 

“I should talk to them,” Tony said, though he truly felt like vomiting.  _ Weak _ . “I shouldn’t--” 

“Fuck should or shouldn’t, Tony. What do  _ you _ want?” 

He gripped the edge of the counter in two tight fists, marble edges digging into the meat of his palms, hating every second of this. He could always change his mind couldn’t he? Rhodey always said he could, anyway. What if it really was something they could fix? What if all they really did need to do was talk? And here he was trying to throw away his whole relationship over some hurt feelings. He tried to imagine it, them actually sitting down for the first time in months to re-evaluate things, talking through the things that bothered him. Going to bed curled around each other and waking up happy. 

“I can’t go back, can I?” The words tumbled right out between them unbidden. Rhodey inhaled sharply and Tony winced. This must be so ridiculous to him. Any minute now he was going to tell Tony he was being over dramatic.  _ Coward. _

“Sure you could,” Rhodey said, lips quirked up in that little smile Tony liked to think was reserved just for him, fondness overlaid with exasperation. Rhodey nudged his side with his elbow prompting Tony to look up into his dark eyes. “But do you really want to?”

\---

_ Tesla wound around his ankle becoming tangled up in his own leash enough that he ended up just flopping over and lazing over the toes of his boots. Nevermind that they were wet with snow, the 1 year old shiba inu stared up at him from his place on the floor still covered it bits of snow.  _

_ "You're your father's child you know that?" Tony groused still shaking snow off him. Of course he'd pick the dog that loved flopping around mounds of snow like the puppy version of a humpback whale. Tesla yipped at him and hopped up miraculously disentangling himself at the ding of the elevator as anxious to get back as his owner.  _

_ The smell hit him when the elevator doors opened, aromatic spices, onions, and tomatoes making his mouth water. Tesla tugged him along happily and Tony readjusted his grip on the bag of wine in his other hand. He was NOT going out again. It was like a snowpacalypse outside and he was not suited for such things. He actually quite liked New York in August. Well, not really, no one did, but he never ended up with snow down his pants in August so it had it's advantages.  _

_ Tesla pawed at the door and Tony gave up and unclipped his leash before he managed to open the door with his mostly free hand. There was a happy bark and then Tesla was a brown blur darting around the corner on the hunt.  _

_ "Fickle," Tony muttered. "I take you for walks and you leave me for another man."  _

_ He leaned against the door and unlaced his boots, grateful for the influx of warmth to his extremities then padded down the hall and past the living and dining rooms to the kitchen where Tesla was happily yipping and spinning around Rhodey's legs, hopping up on his hindlegs to paw at his shins, big eyes clearly begging. Rhodey laughed and grabbed a carrot from the cutting board and dangled it up above Tesla’s head.  _

_ "Don't!" Tony came to lean against the counter. Tesla didn’t even deign to respond to him as Rhodey fed him a piece of carrot. Only when he was done happily munching did he look up at Tony with the equivalent of a shit eating grin on his adorable little face, nudged Tony’s calf with his little nose before trotting away about his business.  _

_ “I get no respect,” Tony complained with a heavy, put upon sounding sigh. Rhodey rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on his hands on his “I keep the best snacks under this apron” apron, and dropped a kiss on the corner of his mouth.  _

_ “Is that all I get for going out into the Snowmaggedon to get you your wine? Not that we couldn’t have totally ordered a crate of it straight from Tuscany,” Tony teased, leaning up for more and not being disappointed when his lover pushed him back against the counter with a little shove.  _

_ “I like it when you bring me wine,” Rhodey told him and Tony heard him loud and clear. He liked when Tony made the effort just as Tony liked to feel needed, especially at this time of year when development was slow and there was a different fundraiser every week. As much as he loathed to go out when there was the threat of even a single flurry, he had to admit he needed the walk.  _

_ “Besides, it depends,” Rhodey rumbled against his cheek. “Pinot or Sauvignon Blanc?”  _

_ Tony fished the bottle of Pinot Grigio, Rhodey’s go to when cooking Italian, out of the bag and wiggled it between them.  _

_ “I expect to be handsomely rewarded,” he pouted. Rhodey chuckled but tilted his head nonetheless and pecked Tony on the tip of his nose then stepped away leaving him spluttering in righteous indignation. His cheeks warmed at the heated look Rhodey sent him as he twisted off the cap. The brunette swallowed back his cheeky response, not sure it wouldn’t come out higher pitched than normal and unwilling to endure the teasing. His eyes lingered on full lips and not for the first time wondered how he’d gone so many years without kissing him.  _

_ “And, Snowmageddon, Tones? There’s like less than 6 inches of snow outside!”  _

_ “With like an inch of deadly ice underneath! I could have died and such bravery should be rewarded!”  _

_ “Thou art right! What was I bethinking? Thanketh thee v’ry much gentle knight.”  _

_ Tony hummed in response, scooting closer, content to just watch him cook one of his mother’s favorite recipes. Rhodey turned to pour his measured cup of wine into the pot and Tony seized the opportunity to snag a few leftover pieces of carrot and celery, careful to avoid the little bits of onion in between.  _

_ “You think you’re slick,” Rhodey said with his back still turned. Tony swallowed quickly and smiled widely when Rhodey looked over at him lips twitching in mirth.  _

_ “Well, there’s thinking and there’s knowing,Honeybear” Tony said innocently.  _

_ “There’s also helping,” Rhodey told him. “How about you get the bread out of the oven. I’m almost done here.”  _

_ After washing his hands, because the helping would most definitely not stop at just getting the bread out, Tony pulled two loaves of rye bread out and set the pans on trivets next to the cutting board. By the time Rhodey deemed the soup ready the loaves had cooled and Tony cut off a couple of slices and started tearing off chunks to mix in with the soup just enjoying his company.  _

_ Later, warm and full bellied, sipping from a glass of Chianti Classico on the floor of their living room, Jarvis’ designs for their new adaptive reuse redevelopment project spread out between them, Tony rested his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. The other man sat with his legs crossed at the ankles while Tony sat with his knees to the side and leaned into him. Rhodey nuzzled against his hair, still damp from the outside, while he held up a renewable energy design for the condemned firehouse in Crown Heights they were working with the Landmarks and Preservation Committee to convert into a community center. Across the room Tesla slept next to his dog bed facing the windows. He swore that dog was part cat and slept more than either of them at any given point in their lives.  _

_ “Do you ever wonder if we would have been better off getting together sooner?” Tony asked out of the blue. He swirled the red in his glass around absently as he hid his face in Rhodey’s neck. The downside being Tony couldn’t see his face either. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Things were going so well. Being with Rhodey was as easy as breathing and he woke up every day in awe of that feeling and how different things were.  _

_ “Of course,” Rhodey said, steady and sure as ever. He’d wrapped an arm around his shoulders in his relaxed position against the couch allowing him free access to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck coaxing a shiver out of him. “Doesn’t matter though. I’m exactly where I want to be.”  _

_ Thankful Rhodey couldn’t see the blush forming on his cheeks, Tony cleared his throat awkwardly. He was sure Rhodey knew but he wanted to say it anyway.  _

_ “Me too.”  _

_ \------ _

Tony glanced anxiously between the door and where Rhodey had conspicuously posted up on a barstool at the counter. He twisted his fingers, digging his thumb into the napkin in his hands and wriggling until he poked through to the other side and began to twist the dangling piece between his forefinger and thumb until he lost his grip dropping the little piece onto his growing pile of scraps. Without having to think about it he tore into another section of napkin just barely keeping his nerves at bay. 

Rhodey quirked an eyebrow at him over the obnoxiously large "Everything But the Kitchen Sink" milkshake he kept poking at. The thing had everything from peanut butter cups to fudge brownies with walnuts worked into it, hence the name. He watched his friend pluck a marshmallow from the top then pop it in his mouth and snorted at the gleeful expression that overtook his normally stoic features. 

Rhodey stuck his blue tongue out, thanks to the birthday cake portion of the shake, at him in retaliation and Tony outright laughed, forgetting for just a moment where he was and why he was there. It also distracted him from the door. It was around 2 in the afternoon, just after the lunch rush, and the restaurant was mostly empty. A family took up a large booth in the back, clearly celebrating something while a cute couple, college aged he would guess, chatted over coffee at the counter. 

So in a sea of empty tables he sat and waited momentarily distracted by Rhodey's antics until his friend's face clouded over with a cold look of narrowed eyes and bared teeth. It wasn't what you'd call a smile. More of a warning to the two men who walked in. Bucky met Rhodey's glare head on from his place behind Steve whose hand was held tightly in his. Steve on the other hand barely paid him any mind. His blue depths skated over the counter area, quickly moved on to the rest of the place until he hit Tony's little corner table, and then he moved. He jerked a little when Bucky didn't immediately let go of his hand, the other man still too preoccupied by Rhodey's presence, but when Bucky dropped his hand Steve was taking long strides toward him. 

Tony's stomach twisted in apprehension, completely unsure if this was something good or not. The closer Steve got the more that cloudy picture cleared up. His eyes were red rimmed and still wet, lips bitten red from his bad habit of worrying at them in stress, and if that weren't enough the slight tremor of his hands as he reached for Tony once he was close enough hit Tony like a punch to the gut. As it was, when Steve grabbed a fist full of Tony’s shirt, dragging him up and into a fierce embrace, it felt like the air was knocked from his chest. 

His head dropped to Steve's shoulder and he promptly lost track of anything else happening around them, content from that moment and into the next to just breathe Steve in, and curl his fingers into the starchy fabric of Steve's button down. The long line of heat trailing down his spine told him Bucky was there now, solid and sending his muscles fluttering as his hand traced his back. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Tony said, quiet and subdued between them. He hadn’t thought last night what it might look like to them during the day. He hadn’t thought a lot of things through lately. All he knew was that if he spent one more minute in that confined space with them he'd start screaming his head off. 

“Yeah, well, great job there, Stark. We thought you might be in the gutter somewhere,” Bucky’s gravelly voice answered sending his heart right down to his shoes. He never knew which Bucky he was going to get. Aggressive and adversarial or charming and sweet? Would it be a good day of them working on Steve's bike or one filled with thinly veiled insults designed to rile each other up until the other snapped? Today was clearly not going to be one of those good days though it was mostly his fault.

Tony tensed and just like that the illusion that everything would be fine cracked right down the middle. He stepped back, needing to put some distance between them, sucking in a harsh breath as he eased back down into his seat and gestured to the seats opposite them. With his arms still suspended from where he'd held him Steve’s brows drew together in confusion. His eyes cut to Bucky's in panic and for all of the bite in his words the other man looked like he wanted nothing more than to go right back to where he was and savor it for as long as he could. Bucky's hand trailed across his shoulders as he followed Steve around the table to sit. Over their shoulders Rhodey took a break from his death glare to send a concerned look Tony's way. There was a question there, Tony could see in his drawn expression, that seemed to read "Do you need me?" 

Tony shook his head and, just like that, Rhodey resumed poking at his melted shake, absently pulling out bits of chocolate or lumps of cookies. He still shot a look over in their direction after a few moments, as if afraid to take his eyes off them for too long. He really didn’t deserve him.

"Buck--" Steve said in warning. 

As soon as he sat down Steve's hands were on the table stopping short of Tony's fingers, a sort of unasked question between them. Subconsciously, Tony pulled his hands back to his lap, taking a fresh napkin with him, and sat up straight in his seat he dragged his gaze back to them, proud that he could meet their eyes under the weight of their intense stares. 

Tony cleared his throat unnecessarily then said flatly. “Hate to disappoint.” 

"See, I told you he was just wasted and sleeping it off somewhere, " Bucky said reassuringly. Tony winced. He hadn't been like that in years no matter what the tabloids picked up on, which wasn't much these days. It would always follow him though. 

"What's going on?" Steve asked softly, looking between Bucky and Tony. 

"I--we," Tony took a steadying breath and let out. "I think we need to talk." 

There was silence as he hesitantly looked at them and watched a myriad of emotions flicker across those features. Bucky went from shock to anger whereas Steve went from surprise to worry. His fingers curled into fists on the table top. 

"Oh my God. Are you kidding me?" Bucky groaned. He sighed, a nasally sound that ended with a small rolling of his eyes, dismissive and annoyed. “You’re not telling me that that’s what this is all about. Your hurt feelings?” 

"Let him talk Buck-" 

“Do you even realize that he thought you might be laid up in a hospital somewhere? He was about five minutes away from calling 911 before I suggested we just come out to check Rhodes’ place to be sure--,” Bucky’s voice rose with each word.

“Bucky, calm down, please.”

"I'm not happy!" Tony shouted over them both. Bucky's mouth snapped shut mid-tirade and the other man glowered at him. Meanwhile, Steve’s pinched expression had Tony begging the universe for patience. 

"What do you mean you're not happy?" Steve asked softly, aghast. Something inside him that always twisted up at that tone of voice. Then the words caught up with him and he landed on angry instead. 

"You mean you haven't noticed?" He hadn't even entertained the idea that Steve didn't know. Sure, that something might be wrong but not that he'd never even picked up on-- 

"Noticed what Stark?" Bucky snapped. 

"It's Tony. You've had your dick down my throat enough times it shouldn't be that hard to remember my name," he said coldly. 

"Tony!" Steve's face reddened. He looked around, scandalized, as if to see if anyone heard, and only breathed easy when he saw that no one was nearby. A muscle in Bucky’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth at the casual mention of their bouts of anger filled sexual encounters or rather “Bucky and Tony’s horrible method of solving arguments that don’t actually solve anything at all”. Nothing quite says “shut the fuck up” like slamming somene against a wall and fucking them senseless.

"Might be easier to remember if you were actually present! Which was it this week? Surprise trip to L.A. again?" 

"That was two days! I left on a Monday and was back Wednesday morning and spent the whole day planning for an evening you two decided to blow off on one of your jaunts down memory lane?" 

“Plans change St-Tony. No one wants to go to your stuffy exclusive 5 star restaurants anyway. We sent you a text, weird how that works by the way, you send someone a message when you want them to know something!" 

"Tony we talked about-" 

"Yeah 6 months ago! We were supposed to check in--" 

"It's not like you couldn't join us. We offered. I guess that's just too much effort for the billionaire socialite!" 

"We would have invited you! We tried--" 

"Because that's how I want to spend my time, the only time I apparently get, with you guys, right? Walking down memory lane whenever you deign to include me in that part of your relationship! Never mind that you dug your heels in every step of the way when I tried to include you in ours. Like getting you season tickets is some massive plot to undermine you!" 

"Tony, I didn't know you felt that way," Steve said, jaw working in irritation as if he were the one who was wounded here. "You should have said something. You could have--" 

"I did!" Tony exploded, uncomfortably aware that the diner had begun to fill up a bit earlier than expected for the dinner rush, mostly kids trailing in after school and getting an eyeful of his crumbling relationship. He was tempted to wave at their poorly concealed gawking. Hindsight really was 20/20. He took a deep shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself. 

"I sat right there in our living room twice and brought it up to you. I even tried to talk to you one on one, Bucky! You never listened!" 

"Talked? You mean picked a fight with me don't you?" Bucky shot back with a bit of a leer. Steve just looked weary. 

"How was I picking a fight? I was just asking that we start planning more dates around new experiences--" 

"All footed by you, right? Because poor Bucky can't pay his way--" 

"I never said--" 

"And the gifts! God the fucking gifts! I don't need you to buy me new things! Neither does Stevie! We're perfectly capable--" 

"Whoa, Buck, I think I can speak for myself," Steve snapped but it did little to slow the other man down. 

"I was trying to help you with your new job!" 

"Fuck your help Stark. You think throwing your money around makes you better. It doesn't." 

"It's Tony," Tony hissed back. "If you didn't like them you could have come to me like a fucking adult but that's not your M.O. is it, Bucky? Besides, you sure didn't have a problem with Sam practically handing you a job in his office but my gifting you a new tablet is clearly a sign of the oncoming apocalypse." 

"It wasn't like that and you know it!" 

Tony glanced at Steve, honestly at a loss, this was almost exactly how their last talk had gone. Steve opened and then closed his mouth as if afraid to weigh in and that had been a major problem almost from the start. Even when Tony and Bucky's animosity leveled out to something like attraction and begrudging respect he sat on that damn fence unwilling to move in either direction or just in his own, not noticing that with each time he was choosing whether he wanted to or not. 

"I can't do this anymore," Tony said, a quiet edge to his voice. "I'm tired. Aren't you?" 

It took a moment, where the silence stretched out between them, the air felt less heavy and he suddenly breathed easier despite the itch behind his eyes contradicting the airy feeling. 

Steve inhaled sharply, suddenly in the seconds that kept passing them by with a dawning horror blossoming on his handsome face, and it occurred to Tony then that the man he'd been loving for ten damn years never imagined that this could happen when they started this ill advised venture. It shouldn't have come as a surprise after all, he didn't even notice a problem to begin with. No, what really shocked him, like a jolt of electricity racing across his nerves, was Bucky's own pinched, stricken look. His usual olive complexion had paled several shades to a downright sickly pallor. He hadn't entertained the thought either. 

As if they'd just go on as they'd been for another 6 months or a year and so on as Steve and Bucky and sometimes Tony when they were supposed to be Steve, Bucky and Tony. 

"What, you--what do you mean?" Bucky whispered. 

"I mean," Tony said, blinking back tears. "I can't live like this. I want to break up."

"Tony, honey, we can take a break, right Buck?" Steve said quickly, scrambling for some sense of control over the situation. 

"I mean both of you." And there it was. Right there out in the open. No going back now. 

Tony twisted the last bit of napkin between his fingers and let it go, watching it land on the already sizeable pile in front of him. With nothing left to distract him he flicked his eyes back up and felt that hardened part inside of him crumble at the look on Steve's face and even Bucky's. Panic welled up inside, filling in those weak little cracks within and expanding, reminding him of all those times he just wanted to make things okay for Steve, when his boyfriend's happiness held him together more than his own. For a second everything he could do to change that look on his face flashed through his mind. It was like instinct, something he hand to stamp down on, because when he stood up from his seat it wouldn't be his concern anymore. Couldn't be. 

Tony shot up to his feet, so fast his chair rocked on two legs before righting itself without falling over. 

"I'm going to pack a bag for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow when you're both at work for the rest of my stuff. You won't have to see me. I don’t want to cause any more problems." 

"So easy, huh?" Bucky muttered. Beside him Steve had pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, failing to cover up his tears already slipping down his cheeks, and breathed deeply. Tony didn’t think he could feel lower than he did right then. 

"Not at all," Tony said with a small hollow smile. "Not even a little bit. Hey." 

He crouched down next to Steve and squeezed his knee. Steve's hand large and warm dropped on top of his squeezing around his fingers painfully tight. Tony winced, but kept his discomfort to himself. 

"So that's just it? You don't love me anymore?" Steve asked, making Tony feel about two feet tall. Like the world's biggest asshole for walking away from him. 

"God no, Steve. Baby I love you so much. I love...loved our life together and what we had. And I'm so sorry. I wish I could do this. You don't know how much. But the fact is, even if I stayed, it wouldn't change the fact that I'm not happy. That I haven't been for a while and that no matter how much we try this isn't going to work the way we planned." 

"It did work!" Steve protested around a sob. "We were fine!" 

"You were," Tony said at a loss for how else to explain it. "I wasn't." 

His fingers were pried off Steve's knee and released, left with a dull throbbing pain. Tony recognized that angry look in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw for what they were. Steve was digging in his heels. Some part of that felt good and in a sickening kind of way. The small part of him that wanted to stay and work things out no matter the cost preened under the attention even if it wasn't the type he'd ever really been looking for from Steve. It was pathetic how easily the words rested just behind clenched teeth. 

_ "I’m sorry, please forgive me. I love you, I'm so sorry. I'm not going anywhere."  _

He forced himself up again, needing to put some distance between them in a few steps, and felt all the better for it, more able to swallow back those words. He should have known better than to think that would be it. Steve Rogers had never gone quietly a day in his life, why would he start now? And for Tony’s sake no less? He should have known he wouldn’t come out of this even relatively unscathed. 

Steve's hand wrapped around his wrist, almost gentle before the hold tightened, causing Tony's steps to falter. Across the room Rhodey was halfway out of his seat not even trying to pretend he wasn't watching them closely. 

"You're a liar, you know that?" Steve said, low and cold. 

"Steve, please," he hated how much he sounded like he was begging, how he didn't have the strength to look back and meet Steve's eyes and see that anger directed at him. When they first met, 10 years younger and still naive Tony knew that anger was for Bucky Barnes, and he remembered wondering what kind of person had the audacity to leave a man like Steve Rogers. 

"You promised," Steve was up and closer, the sound of chairs scraping across the floor dim next to his words. "You said you'd never leave. That you wanted me, wanted us, forever and as long as I loved you and you loved me there was nothing that could make you leave. I believed you and you lied to me. You said--"

"You said, I was enough for you once. That I wasn’t just a placeholder for something you were missing. I guess that makes us both liars, huh?" 

The grip on his wrist released leaving a numbing tingling feeling behind that stayed with him long past Steve and Bucky storming out. All around him there was activity he hadn't noticed before while his focus had been narrowed to just them and the implosion of his once longest running relationship. Rhodey was in one moment by the counter and at his side the next, expression as dark as a thundercloud. It wasn't directed at him and that knowledge and the relief it brought was to blame for the sob that bubbled up without his permission. His face was wet and he didn't even know when he'd started crying. Just that in an instant Rhodey's arm was slung across his shoulders and he was pulled into his side then maneuvered out of the restaurant and down to the side walk between that blink and the next. The sun hadn’t begun to set yet though summer was fading into autumn but there was still a chill in the air sending goose bumps prickling across his skin. 

\----

_ The little italian restaurant Rhodey got them a table at wasn't so much little as it was exclusive. Tony had extended an invitation for Rhodey to go to Raos, because his best friend always deserved the best, when he first decided to relocate to Manhattan. The owner knew his mother in her glory days as an artist and thus knew him from childhood. He was proud to say he would likely have a permanent table there regardless of his wealth but as it was he did and Rhodey chose to finally go with him on what was to be their first date.  _

_ Tony changed his tie once and then again, growling in frustration at his reflection in the rearview mirror of his car. Black shirt under a bespoke navy Kiton suit, mahogany Ferragamo oxfords, and he still for the life of him couldn't pick out a tie.  _

_ It was just Rhodey.  _

_ Tony scoffed. He hadn't been this nervous before a date since Steve. Shit. It wasn't just Rhodey. It was Fucking Rhodey! What if-- _

_ There was a knock on his window and there was Rhodey peering into his window, dark eyes dancing in amusement. Like he knew exactly what Tony had been doing. _

_ 'Because he's known you for over 20 years, dumbass,' he reminded himself.  _

_ He tossed both ties in the back seat and climbed out of the car, leaning back against the door, mouth drying instantly when he got an eyeful of his date.  _

_ "Black on black," Tony noted raking his eyes up fitted slacks to the play of muscle under his jacket. He rarely got to see Rhodey dressed up. For the last few decades he mostly wore his dress blues to events they attended together. Not that Rhodey in uniform was anything to sneeze at either. God, no.  _

_ "Think I'll pass muster for the dress code?" Rhodey asked, hands stuffed in his pockets. He stepped closer, chest to chest.  _

_ "If you don't I know somewhere you can wear less and match the dress code perfectly," Tony grinned, already feeling more at ease.  _

_ "I'm sure you do," the retired Air Force Colonel said. He pressed a light kiss to Tony's cheek seeming to delight in the way a flush formed beneath his skin in response.  _

_ "S-supposed to wait until the end of the date for a kiss, Honeybear," Tony quirked an eyebrow at him as he leaned in seeking more contact. He felt Rhodey's hand close around his. Their fingers intertwined.  _

_ "Think I've been patient enough," Rhodey chuckled and tugged him along. "C'mon, I wanna see what all the fuss is about."  _

_ "You lead, I follow," Tony said, squeezing his hand.  _

\-----

He packed a bag in a daze, just grabbing random articles of clothing, some he wasn’t even sure were his, and stuffing them into a duffle bag. Rhodey had advised he grab things he absolutely needed in case he couldn’t come back for a few days, just in case. He didn’t have to say it for Tony to catch his meaning. They both remembered Tony’s wrecked apartment after he and his on and off again college boyfriend, Tiberius Stone, broke up. Three of his mother’s original paintings, never before shown or reproduced, had been damaged, leaving Tony devastated. 

Tony just nodded numbly after grabbing his toothbrush and headed towards the second bedroom they converted into a small home office and sometimes art studio. It was there that Tony’s and Steve’s worlds overlapped the most. Building plans littered the desktop next to his laptop. Sat next to them where bits of Steve’s sketches and an open tool box of various paints. Canvases lined the wall next to 3D models of restoration projects Tony was working on the side. One of Steve’s paint covered rags was laid out on the back of his desk chair. He couldn’t remember the last time they were in this room working together side by side. Months ago probably. He grabbed his laptop and cables, much more carefully than his clothes, and packed them all up along with some of his newer electrical designs and pitches. 

He took one last look around the room and hoisted his bag over his shoulder and left. 

\----

“Tony, it’s Steve, I-I’d really like to talk. Can you call me back when you get this?” 

“Star-Tony, hi, it’s me. I know you don’t want to hear from me but Steve needs you. I need you, too. Please call one of us back.” 

“Tony, it’s still weird not hearing your voice everyday. I just...I miss you. Call me when you get a chance.” 

“Alright, Stark, this is taking things a bit too far! You could have at least said something to Steve before you cleared your shit out. He hasn’t stopped crying since we came home. Pick up the damn phone you selfish prick!” 

“...I'm sorry, okay? That was out of line. Steve's just, he's not...he just misses you. And for what it's worth, so do I." 

\----

He powered down his phone and resisted the urge to drop the thing some twenty stories down and end up in pieces on the pavement. If he had some assurance that it wouldn't hit someone, even this late at night, he'd do it just for the peace it would afford him. 

He bent to swipe the bottle of whisky from the side table and took a swig consciously aware of how he swayed when he leaned on the railing separating him from that twenty foot fall. The burn down his throat felt oddly soothing. 

The rooftop garden was great for thinking and even better for hiding. Rhodey knew where he was but allowed him a few hours a day to go off and lick his wounds alone before seeking him out. Pepper was aware of the situation. That was a whole other level of crisis. She kept coming up with inventive ways to fuck with his exes while he kept attempting to get her to stand down. Pep was in Protective Mama Beat Down mode, though, and was determined to enact swift and terrible retribution. If he could just keep her from blowing them up for a little while longer he was sure some other new crisis would take her mind off it. He hoped. 

Steve announced their break up in true social media fashion to the point that PR was having a field day keeping everything as hushed as possible. Tony wasn't THE face of the company anymore but it didn't lessen his importance or the mini frenzy Steve's post kicked off, starting with TMZ and ending with his face splashed all over the post dressed in sweats, and looking morose two days after he walked out on them. 

He hadn't missed the spotlight that had been largely absent from his life since he and Steve got serious. Had gotten used to leaving his apartment to get coffee and do other mundane things without worrying who saw him. Very much different from a few days ago when he walked two blocks to the bakery and ended up punching a sleazeball entertainment reporter in the face when he ambushed him while waiting for muffins. 

"Is it true your boyfriend cheated on you, Stark? Another one bites the dust, huh?"

Pepper had a field day. Rhodey just handed him an ice pack because the reporter had an impressive left hook that left behind a decent shiner.

It was enough to keep him inside most days poking at his projects and emailing Jarvis about designs. Work, sleep, hide. He had a routine and he was sticking to it, damn it.

He took another drink and was just marveling at how light the bottle was now when the roof access door squeaked open. Wordlessly he handed the bottle over once Rhodey leaned his elbows on the railing next to him. Right on schedule. 3 a.m. corral Tony back to bed. 

Rhodey tipped his head back and swallowed down the rest of the almost spent bottle with a hiss. Tony marveled at the play of neon colors from the billboard on the building across the street on his dark skin. He didn't know what he'd do without Rhodey, without this person that somehow always had his back. Something warm bloomed past the pain in his chest. He opened his mouth to say it. He doesn't say it enough. How glad he was to have him as a friend even if that's all they'll ever be. Would never tell him that he'd been taking what he could since he was 15 years old. 

He turned with the full intent and caught that little smile, really just a slight lift of the corner of Rhodey's mouth, somehow both weary and fond. 

"Come on, Tones," Rhodey beat him to the punch. He tugged on the sleeve of Tony's t-shirt, not enough to pull him forward, just to get him moving. The older man headed to the door empty bottle in hand. 

"You lead, I follow," Tony said, and he would. He would. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think/feel! I hope you liked it!


End file.
